


since we even saw the sun

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Depression, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Recovery, Strained Friendships, a literal shitshow, for only one scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:06:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: it’s only expected, considering she’s survived three killing games.(the scars on her hands, the falter in her step, the only-recent regaining of sight in her left eye…)she survived, but there’s no triumph in that.(or, kirigiri kyouko's steps to recovery)
Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Naegi Komaru (background), Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	since we even saw the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celestial_nova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestial_nova/gifts).



when she first met him, he was like helios. 

his kindness and radiance glowed brilliantly, and his presence felt like the sun was bowing down to speak to her. the air felt sweeter, somehow-- the scathing keenness of winter was easier at his side. the walls that she built up, the castle overgrown with ivy and moss, was gradually torn down by the disarming boy with upturned palms and a wide grin. she was initially scared-- to be without defense, to be without protection, 

but she  _ loved  _ him, and more importantly, she  _ trusted  _ him. she placed her image in the hands of so many people, and many viewed her with scrutiny and ridicule, but he never did. he just smiled, accepted her, baggage and all, and kissed her cheek at a new year’s party. 

for the first time in her life, permanence seemed attainable.

but then the biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history occurred.

\--

watching him on the podium, condemning and vindicating culprits (victims, they’re all the same) in a single breath brought her the sense of justice,

as if she was actually witnessing fairness in the way people she knew were executed.

still, the trials being led by an entirely average boy who she felt was familiar (in the way her family and her talent was, in the way that she knew he had always  _ been  _ there, but she can’t place who he had been) were… admittedly impressive. 

and, somewhere along the line, she actually began to trust him, because she knew what liars looked like (she had looked herself in the eyes many times, unwavering, unloving) and he definitely was not one.

so, when he did lie, when he lied to  _ save her life,  _ it took her off guard. and the unrelenting waves of guilt, a sea she couldn’t traverse with illuminated creatures she only heard of in folktales, consumed her. she was taught to swim by her father, back when he was alive, back when the world wasn’t in ruin, but her father had never taught her to save a life.

maybe he never knew.

so when her savior fell into the pit, his fate unknown, she started  _ suffocating.  _

it only seemed natural that she went to save him. and yet, the guilt in her footsteps, the shaking of her gloved hand as she braced her fall, never left her.

\--

his hand was in hers by the time they left the decrepit, damned school.

he squeezed it, thumb rubbing the fabric of the glove. she fought the smile that rose to her face as the future foundation spoke to them, and minutes later, she squeezed it back.

it felt like the world was fixing itself again.

\--

_ passing the fourth time limit with naegi makoto alive _

in the end, she should have known it would end like this.

but there was no hesitation.

\--

seeing him smile after she survived made it all worth it. and yet… 

“we might finally be happy, kiri,” he whispered, his arms wrapped around her waist as if he was scared to let her go. she kept her eyes on the sunset because she didn’t know if she could see the adoring expression he was probably giving her.

she didn’t want to hope yet.

but she nodded, because she could never say that to him, not after everything. “we might,” she replied, and he nuzzled closer to her, his grin widening.

\--

red manicured nails tapping on her shoulder, the skull of her father in her ungloved hands (the scars of someone she killed in her line of sight, making bile rise in her throat), the sound of water washing over her all made her knees weak. guilt. 

and enoshima, tangled together.

“i can still hurt you,” she promised so sweetly, the sacchariferous tone almost crushing her (almost did, had he not lied, had he not protected her). “i can make it all fall apart.”

“you can’t,” she spat out. “you’re dead.”

the red lipstick smile stayed, even when everything else faded.

she awoke, her legs tangled in the sheets as she nearly fell to the floor. 

she was alone. she was safe.

and so was he.

\--

the first time she saw him dead, she felt everything stop.

_ poison _ , togami (???) later told her,  _ someone poisoned him. _

it didn’t feel real. sleepless nights, trauma flashbacks, everything that was bearable  _ because  _ of him, only to meet a lackluster end.

she kneeled beside his body as she pleaded  _ why didn’t you kill ME-  _ with the gods that have turned their back on her. she didn’t care for helios anymore, she didn’t miss the athena he always told her she resembled. she only needed  _ him,  _ entirely human with the strength mortals never possess in the mythology (but he is not heracles, never). 

but he was dead, and it felt impossible.

\--

_ passing the fourth time limit with kirigiri kyoko alive _

this didn’t make sense.

this didn’t make sense at all.

\--

“good morning, kiri!”

when she heard his voice, still sleepy in the morning light, she didn’t question it. 

it’s only when he’s in the kitchen that she  _ does.  _

her instincts tell her to scream, to check herself into a psychiatric ward (if one still stood, if they weren’t all run by the insane like her), but instead she ran into the kitchen, still in her pajamas. he turned to look at her, a carton of milk in his hand, and she sprinted to him. the milk fell as she  _ collided  _ with him, chest heaving with breaths she didn’t know how to take. his arms naturally went around her.

“kiri... was it a bad dream?” his hands play with her lavender hair soothingly, but all she could think about was the slackness the bloodless hands had after his death. his death that evidently never occurred. the death that, regardless, was her fault.

she shook her head and pulled away, “i apologize,” she tried to say smoothly, but her voice trembled. “it was… nothing.”

he tried to fight her on it, but she said nothing.

\--

and so the day progressed until the night came, and soon weeks passed with her not recalling the movement of time.

\--

on a sunday, she woke up to the dark sky tumultuously roaring. 

the difference was, it was not red. it was blue, albeit dark, but  _ blue.  _

“some storm,” a familiar voice commented. she flinched as he turned to face her, giving a friendly smile. he was wearing the standard uniform for hope’s peak and, upon looking down, she saw that she was, too. “are you scared of thunder?”

_ how?  _

she tried to keep her voice under control as she deflected, replying, “i’m scared of what they symbolize.”

“oh. huh.” his smile fell into a more contemplative look, but it soon returned. “that’s a cool way of thinking about it.”

she just nodded. “i suppose so.”

“what is it that scares you, if i can ask?” he leaned closer. “the foreboding bits of it? or just the… spookiness? of it all? ah, i’m not very good with metaphors, but if it would make you feel lighter, i’m happy to talk!”

“it’s the knowledge that something is wrong,” she stated, surprising herself with how soft yet serious her voice was. “that the sky should be clear, but it isn’t. that after days of sunshine and predictability, it resulted in a storm like this. some people believed that storms were sent to punish humanity for crimes they committed. i... think about that a lot.”

“interesting,” he mused. “that’s really smart, kirigiri-san. although... is everything alright?” 

concern. he was human. he was  _ real _ .

“i’m fine, although i have to leave now.”  _ regrettably.  _ “i... will see you around, i suppose.”

“hopefully!” he chirped, waving excitedly.  _ human. real. and yet…  _ “bye, kirigiri-san.”

“...farewell.”

she couldn’t take her eyes off the sky.

\--

“kiri, i’m worried about you.”

she set down her coffee cup, the dark liquid betraying a void lying beneath it (it’s just the bottom of a mug, and yet). she didn’t meet his eyes, sighing, because she knew exactly what she would find. she breathed heavily instead, her gloved hands resting in her lap, “why so?” it lacked the lilt to sound like a question, more like an acknowledgement.

his hand grasped hers, and she didn’t startle, because she wasn’t afraid of  _ him _ . “you can talk to me. you know that, right?”

“of course, naegi.” she began to familiarize herself with the wood patterns on the table, because she refused to meet his eyes.

she wondered what she would see.

he squeezed her hand, and it reminded her of other times where it felt as though they both survived. “makoto, kiri. i’ve known you forever, i…” he sighed. “... nevermind. i love you.”

“i know.”

and there was nothing more to say.

\--

a bar.

no despair. just a regular bar in modern time, give or take a few years.

interesting. 

she felt him kiss her in the bathroom smelling of weed, and she could feel herself being just a little buzzed. he sighed against her lips and she only gripped his shirt tighter. she didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to stop kissing him, but eventually they called a taxi and headed to his place.

bliss. bliss, and then

nothing.

\--

_ symptoms of complex ptsd _

_ mental disorders relating to nightmares _

_ can i get a diagnosis without having a doctor _

_ do you think i’m a bad person _

_ was it my fault _

_ i keep having these dreams _

she sighed, logging off of the computer and leaving to make herself some tea. she didn’t clear the history; whoever saw her searches wouldn’t be surprised. 

it’s only expected, considering she’s survived three killing games.

(the scars on her hands, the falter in her step, the only-recent regaining of sight in her left eye…)

she survived, but there’s no triumph in that.

\--

“kyoko, do you get nightmares?”

she didn’t look at asahina, who posed the question, allowing it to linger in the air and shrivel into some tattered, unfortunate thing. she continued to sip from her coffee cup as if she could allow something like that to die without mourning it at all.

eventually, she offered a reply, “yes.”

predictably, her friend sighed and nestled her head in the crook of her pale neck. the tears do not come as a surprise to her, the cooling sensation they leave on her shoulder coming as just one of the many experiences showing the muted melancholy of survival.

quietly, asahina said, “me too.”

she didn’t find it fit to reply.

\--

she peered over the edge of a rooftop.

the water was rippling beautifully, a gentle glimmer over the river that reflected the night sky and echoed the footsteps of the man behind her. she didn’t turn, waiting for him to speak first, because she knew he always would. except, this time, he waited until he could pull himself up to stand beside her, looking down over the edge.

he sniffled, his hands balled up into fists, and he emphasized each word as he spat out, “me too.”

that echoed yesterday too.

slowly, she reached out to take his hand in her gloved one.

she didn’t remember what happened next, but she’s seen enough cases to figure it out.

\--

“kiri?”

“why are you awake, makoto?”

“kiri, wha-”

“is everything alright?”

at four am, she reached out to take his hand in her ungloved one,

and he cried.

\--

“damn,” came a mumble at a desk with erratically scattered papers. there were long strands of hair atop of crumbled files, the aftermath of a breakdown too casual to be one.

she said nothing on it, even though she was the sole person present. “hagakure,” she asked, her eyes barely rising above the edge of her book. a mystery novel with a culprit she already discovered by the time she reached page thirty nine. she was only reading to humor the idea of suspense, awaiting the climax she hardly cared for just so she could breathe again.

he looked at her even when she didn’t look at him. “huh?” if she closed her eyes and pretended, she could still believe he was a teenager.

“i’ve been having nightmares.”

she turned the page, pressed her fingertips to the corner like cigarettes to an ashtray except without the cathartic feeling of a sting. she heard him ask a question along the lines of why would she ever confide in him, but she found he was the easiest to trust because… 

… she was never certain.

he dropped his reading glasses and leaned on the messy desktop. “alright. talk to me about these nightmares.”

\--

_ i have dreams not PTSD _

_ do i have PTSD _

_ how to get boyfriend a psychiatrist _

_ how to know if someone is your boyfriend _

_ is it depression or  _

_ goddammit i thought  _

she closed the tab with an aggressive click, leaning against her forearm. 

there will never be a time where she didn’t have endless amounts of work to do,

and she still had to deal with the nightmares.

\--

“would you lie to save me?”

“always,” she breathed.

and she watched him fall,

fall, 

fall,

and it was suddenly autumn again.

\--

“you look sick, kirigiri.”

she arched her eyebrow. the coffee was boiling hot, the steam enough to burn her lips. it dissolved the imprint of bitterness when she managed to let her words escape, “thank you.”

he perched against the wall, a calculated position. they both function like a dance, and she knew it was impossible to escape his hawk-like perception. only one person could do that, and he was currently asleep at four pm. with an abrasive, calloused voice, her friend remarked, “it wasn’t a compliment. something is wrong.”

“you know i’m not going to tell you anything,” she steeled her jaw. he would never say a word, either, on how he felt after everything. she convinced herself that it was fine.

however, his sincerely hard gaze didn’t do her self-deception any favors. “i know,” he spat out, “but i had hope. and you and naegi at least deserve that.”

the conversation ended there, but she made him some tea as an apology. she caught him pouring it down the drain later.

\--

the fields were green and the cherry blossom trees were bright. with a heart made of flowers and spring, he asked her, heels bouncing, if she would like to be his girlfriend. she didn’t know how to articulate the cracks in her heart left by the thorns he ripped out, how to articulate that those cracks are the only force keeping her blood pumping. so, she leaned down to kiss him instead, and she saw his eyes sparkle. she wondered if he ever thought about the future.

\--

she came early to the gathering, not planning on staying for the festivities of the reunion, but wanting to speak to fukawa herself. she approached her, finding small enjoyment in the way her eyes predictably widened when she met her cold gaze. “i didn’t n-notice you th-there,” she mumbled, wringing her hands together.

she lifted her eyebrow like a criminal to damning evidence or a detective to the same. “evidently.” the other’s eyes, a desaturated purple now resembling grey or brown, rather than the faint lavender or white she displayed, were clearer than before. it sparkled in a different way, and she didn’t have to be a detective to determine why. “you found someone.”

desaturated, clear eyes flickered to the side, ashamed. “her n-name is komaru n-naegi.”

she nodded, because it was only what she expected. “take good care of her,” she left the remark lingering in the room smelling of cake and celebratory wine, “in the way i never took care of her brother.”

fukawa, at least, has the respect to not call out. 

she didn’t say another word to her, even when she went back to towa. she had already given her all the advice she had.

\--

“the psychiatrist was kind.”

“good,” her forehead creased. “is that all?”

he sat beside her, wrapping his arms around her and, not for the first time, she felt smaller than him. she allowed herself that one embrace as he said softly, “what did you expect?” a hand through her hair, he added, “the end to my pain won’t end yours, kiri.”

“why can’t we be selfish?” she asked, demanding an answer from god, but the other would suffice.

he smiled, then. “because we had to be heroes.”

“i disagree,” she said loudly, her voice making her wince. “i disagree, naegi.”

“that’s fine.” 

it wasn’t.

\--

there weren’t red nails. there wasn’t peach hair or dark lipstick, seductive clothes or blue eyes.

instead, there were untrimmed nails. there was black hair and a face free from makeup, tattered clothes and grey eyes.

“ikusaba mukuro.” a wretched name upon her lips; she wished to tear it away and banish it into the darkest places of history, because she knew the despair never wanted to be seen by the eyes of scrutiny, not after everything.

her back turned to her, then, eyes filling with tears. “leave me alone.”

she thought, then, that ikusaba’s voice sounded like hers.

\--

_ how do i stop the nightmares _

_ do i need to go on some quest _

_ i sound so dumb _

_ define anathematize _

_ my fingers are betraying me even with the gloves on _

_ how do i stop the nightmares guide _

he looked over her shoulder that time. his hand rested on her shoulder, saying nothing, implying nothing. it was only when she kicked the chair back did he speak. “kiri, what have you done to yourself?”

she didn’t know.

\--

a slip of paper in her hand, 

expectant eyes looking at her.

“this is my doctor.” he sounded out the words as if she couldn’t understand them, as if she was too lost to get it. in a way, she was. “my therapist. you should see him.”

it felt like a gift, something she couldn’t accept,

so she dangled it above the stove, waiting for it to become ash before she cried. he didn’t come in.

he got her another paper a week later. it met the same fate.

\--

“my brother loves you, y’know that?” 

her voice was the voice of a hero— it was a high-pitched cheery toned sound with the depth and exhaustion of someone who saved a thousand lives and lost a million more. it was the voice of someone who would never win, and she knew that because both siblings sounded the same.

she continued, kicking her legs as she sat on the countertop. “i’m shocked you haven’t gotten married. he never stops talking about you.”

she crushed the piece of paper in her hands, standing tall and defensive. she didn’t meet the other’s eyes. “he’s concerned about me.” the grit of her teeth spoke the rest of the story.

“i’m concerned about toko, but i’m going to marry her-“

“i am not you, komaru.”

she paused, her legs mid swing. when she spoke again, her smile was back, pressed against her like a phantom. “you should start calling him makoto.”

she watched as the other set the paper aflame.

“maybe,” she thought an hour later.

\--

“you’re so hard on yourself, kirigiri-san,” he whispered. “why is that?”

coolly, “i could ask you the same, makoto.”

she woke up.

\--

“another nightmare?”

“something like that.”

he sighed and reached to the bedside drawer, pulling out another slip of paper. he pressed it into her hands-- ungloved-- and waited. when she didn’t move, he asked, “are you not going to burn it?”

she looked at it and saw wasted ink and wasted potential, faith in a girl who had nothing to bring to the world but tried so desperately anyway. she didn’t look at him when she sat up against the headboard and said, quietly, “i’m tired, naegi.”

he pushed himself up, letting the paper flutter to her lap as he grabbed her hands and looked her in the eyes. under his breath came a soft, “marry me, kiri.”

she broke eye contact. the ceiling gave her no advice; she was free from its command, the world’s command. so she replied, “i will,” and allowed him to press his lips to her knuckles and brush away a strand of hair. she felt like a teen again, young and reckless and  _ afraid _ . “do you think we’ll make it?”

“of course we will.”

she didn’t want to question that anymore.

\--

“you can’t escape me.” she resembled a tiger, bloodstained with untrimmed claws and dangerously beautiful eyes. “you will never escape me. you’re my favorite toy.”

glasses in her left hand, a rose in vitro in the other. “i’m sorry,” she whispered.

she spinned to be in front of her. “you’re sorry for  _ that _ loser? give me a break.”

“i could ask you for the same, enoshima junko.” she dropped the precious items, watching them shatter in a cathartic way. she dug her heel into the glass. “you may come to haunt me, but this will end someday.”

“when you die?” a beat. “pretty fucking metal, kirigiri.”

“no,” she murmured. “not when i die.”

“you will despair, kirigiri. you  _ will  _ despair.” her voice was hard, sharp like a diamond’s edge. “i will take everything you love. all your hope, all your trust, and i will take it from you as i’ve done a hundred times. your hands will be bloodied by the time you’re done. red, red, red!~ despair, despair, despair!~”

“i’m despairing right now, enoshima. but i’m not giving up.”

“you’re a fucking idiot.”

she laughed brokenly. “i know.”

\--

the red sky paved the path for starlight, casting shadows and glimmers over the world around them. it was the only time it felt like everything wasn’t aflame. it was not the only time she pondered whether or not she would die like this,

but for now, it was pretty.

a hand squeezed hers, and she looked to gaze at him-- daylight meeting moonlight again. an eclipse is in the horizon, but all he said is, “you’re pretty.”

“thank you.” a pause. “i love you, makoto.”

his eyes lit up in a way it never had before. “i love you too.”

she looked away. “i’m sorry i never-”

“i know.” he interrupted, a small smile. “it’s okay.”

the sky betrayed the black holes lurking, preying upon the world. she scanned the galaxy, searching to see if she could predict the events that would destroy her. she couldn’t find anything. “do you think we’ll be okay?” she sounded childish, voicing the thoughts of

her, a closed casket

her, scars from a fire

her, a skull in her hand

her, bare in front of the galaxy, next to the person who has loved and lost for her in every fragment of time.

he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “yes.”

she could see faces in the sky, images from her nightmares. she didn’t think they mattered anymore; she wanted to be awake for the rest of her life. “me too.”

when she first met him, he was helios,

but now, he was human, she was his,

and they were eternal.

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday, nova!! i'm going to spare you a long mla-style essay considering i can do that over text, but seriously, you've done so, so, so much for me. i'm sorry for all the times you feel shitty and i'm sorry for all the times where i'm being shitty. you mean the world to me. thank you for being my best friend, best beta 2kforever, best person-to-start-collabs-we'll-never-finish-with, just... best. happy birthday, you're one year closer to being a boomer.
> 
> (side note to say if you haven't read nova's fics please i'm begging you check out her works. she has such a way with language and such a good grasp on the characters i tried to portray here.)
> 
> well i hope you guys liked this! a lot of new content is upcoming since i somehow got myself roped into doing four different ship weeks between now and july!!! so!!! yay!!! i hope you guys stick around for the ride aldksfj sorry for spamming y'alls inboxes i hope i can make content you guys like!!! 
> 
> that's all (i'm either extremely chatty in these end notes or very, very brief. hm.) have a good day, stay safe and please stay hydrated or else your tongue might hurt like mine >:(
> 
> bye!


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